Vasquez Bio pt 3 - “No Running”
14 Mar 2020Jenette Vasquez
Vasquez Bio pt 3 - “No Running”(Continued from “Vasquez Bio pt 2 - Ms. Black”)
I know what you’re thinking. What does all this have to do with Vasquez?
Patience, my best beloved. Patience.
Follow along closely, now, for I will only tell this story once. There won’t be a test but our hero’s lives may just depend on what you’re about to learn.
The note paper Mr. Red so deftly slipped to Ms.Black was the official government letterhead from the office of the Defense Secretary. It was a lighter shade of periwinkle blue, which meant it was from his office inside the Prime Minister’s residence. It was also micro-nanochip-coded so it could be traced to a specific meeting if necessary. It was not so much paper as it was a blend of paper and synthetic micro weave cloth that was pressure-sensitive, so it could record and transmit anything written upon it to a laptop, tablet, or cloud for convenient reference and tracking in case of loss.
The page in Black’s possession boasted wrinkles, creases, and burns from the day’s…activities. Its day started quietly enough as part of a random uncoded 10-pack of notepaper in the office stores. The Defense Secretary’s Executive Secretary was on a tight deadline as usual so she asked a male aide to code and prep the meeting, and he did so. He quickly assigned each department head one 10 pack each of this insanely expensive notepaper. As they were coded, the names of each department head appeared at the top of the page in embedded nanotech “ink,” except for guests like Ms. Black, in which case no name appeared next to the official seal.
General Kurtz received 10 sheets coded THX1131 - THX1140. Don’t ask me what THX stands for, I may be an omniscient narrator, but I can’t fathom what kind of mind thought that one up. Probably an unemployed writer. Certainly nobody worth naming a space station after.
Anyways…
Note THX1137, now in Ms. Black’s handbag, passed from General Kurtz’s gun-oil-scented hands to the overworked, over-sexed, and overslept oven mitts of Chad, his over-caffeinated male aid. Chad then passed it to his latest sexual conquest in the office, a female aid named Heather who angrily snatched it away with her under-pleasured-last-night, gotta-finish-herself-off fingers. She departed quickly but slowed after nearly toppling a staffer carrying a platter full of water pitchers. She turned back to apologize. That’s when Heather noticed Red standing up, his dark eyes heat-locked on her as he leaned forward to pick up something blue from the table in front of Ms. Black. The aid started walking even faster after this Samoan mountain on two legs followed her through a bustling kitchen, stuffing something into his vest pocket.
“No running” was the unspoken (well...sometimes spoken, occasionally shouted by week-one rookies with guns leveled) residence rule. As a result this “chase” became a silly-looking Olympics-worthy speed walk through the tightly guarded service corridors. Heather finished first.
The finish line was the bustling loading dock where all of the government couriers lined up with rollerblades, bikes, motorcycles, cars, trucks, vans, and ground-based drones at the ready. No air vehicles of any kind were allowed within a 10 mile radius of the residence. That 10 mile column of air was reserved for the Prime Minister’s own aircraft and residence air defense drones. Anything else would be hacked and piloted away remotely, or failing that, shot down.
For reasons she can’t explain, when Heather arrived at the line of waiting couriers, she hesitated, then chose to hand the note to the worst courier in the entire pool. Maybe it’s because he looked and dressed like the latest teen heart throb movie star who played that sexy emo vampire in last week’s 20-episode “binge-worthy” blockbuster on Netma-zon Streaming, or maybe it’s because she was unknowingly attracted to Jess, the best courier in the pool.
At first glance, Jess looked like a prettyboy. On second glance, Jess was the only woman in the courier pool. She was lean, muscular, unapologetically lesbian, and looked like a female James Dean in Tron bike leathers. She drove a restored century old classic… a sex-on-wheels antique motorcycle by Harley-Ducati. Jess owned more tools than most mechanics let alone all of the men in the pool put together, and was the pool’s go-to tech support for all things mechanical and digital. Jess was generous with her compliments over Heather’s weekly thank you gifts to the pool: home-made lemon bars; and always returned Heather’s finger gun hellos. Jess complimented Heather daily on her shoes, and, using her best Rebel Without a Cause smolder, made it clear the attraction was very, very… very mutual. In short, Jess the lesbian goddess was dangerously delicious in so many ways.
Heather’s underwhelming activities with Chad last night wasn’t helping matters but she wasn’t ready to be aware of, let alone embrace, her attraction to Jess. Over a drowsy coffee with several other office workers that morning, Heather was advised by two of Chad’s former conquests that she’d have been better off sleeping with one of those infamous pleasure drones in the red district... piloted by a drunk monkey. All three gals moved on to more important matters, like wondering what that Emo Vampire courier would be like in the sack.
Jess noticed Heather’s rush, her last second decision, and that she was followed by Red. She quickly sussed out that the McGuffin as she watched Heather hand the note over to Vampire Boy and whisper instructions in his ear.
Heather was thrilled to be so close to him. Vampire Boy flirted clumsily in return, regurgitating an obscure but geeky cool quote from the blockbuster. Heather blinked, not understanding his reference. Vampire Boy tried to mansplain the joke as he dropped the note into a fireproof bag and placed that into a blast resistant security tube, then labeled and scanned it. The tube fit snugly into what looked like the breach loader of a battleship cannon mounted on the side of the newest Hondyota-Dronevee SUV. He scanned the SUV and away it went, piloted first by the residence security pilot until the vehicle was safely outside the property. At this, Vampire Boy offered an awkward goodbye then retreated to his tent, a portable on-site command center, to pilot the Dronevee once it was released by security.
For whatever reason, Heather’s last-second decision to go drone instead of Jess helped Mr. Red. He was a more than decent driver with vast experience and training, but Jess would have left Big Red eating dust. Red knew it. That’s why, without hesitation, Red chose Jess to chase down the drone.
Jess nodded at Red as he approached. Red nodded back and jerked his head at Vampire Boy who was loading the note into the tube.
Jess smirked, nodded, and offered her calling card. Among other things, it included a deposit code to receive payment.
Red smirked, nodded, took her calling card, and deftly slipped her his own calling card in the same movement. His card was preloaded with a 50% down payment for services. The other half would automatically transfer upon delivery of the goods. Jess liked the number she saw on the card’s screen. Easy money.
Then Red reached into the vest pocket of his handsome bespoke suit. He pulled out a sealed 10-pack of periwinkle blue note paper, and handed her the entire pack. Red held up one thick Samoan tree root of a finger and nodded his chin in the direction of Vampire Boy, then flashed a series of street slang hand signs saying “I give you 10 thin virgins. Trade one thin virgin for penis boy’s thin whore. Rename the traded thin virgin to THX1137. Nine thin virgins for you. Bring penis boy’s thin whore to me.”
Jess’ eyebrows raised nearly imperceptibly. She was rarely surprised by anything but she knew the street value of this material. She nodded, street signed everything Red had signed followed by “That’s a fact Jack” to show her understanding. Red smiled and nodded. Jess dropped the fresh pack of periwinkle blue note paper into a fireproof bag, then into a blast proof tube. The tube went into her backpack. Jess and Red exchanged street signs of mutual respect and moved on to the business at hand.
The moment Vampire Boy turned toward his tent, Heather speed walked back toward the meeting. Jess watched Heather’s cute butt disappear into the building then followed the Drone-vee out, careful not to try anything while on secure government property. In the meantime, Red watched Jess and the pool, half of whom were all watching Heather’s butt, and waited until Jess followed the Drone-vee before turning away. He then speed walked to the parking garage where he’d retrieve his car so he could tail Jess.
On the way Red thumbed out a private message to Ms. Black on his phone.
Back inside the board room, Black’s phone was face up on the table in front of her. It lit up and vibrated as she addressed General Kurtz on the benefits of clones over teen draftees to pilot his drone force. She stole a quick glance at the screen before it went dark.
”We got ourselves a convoy,” was all it said.
(To be continued)